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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26419102">To Exercise Control</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotgunsinlace/pseuds/astramaxima'>astramaxima (shotgunsinlace)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Normal Rules Did Not Apply [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sonic the Hedgehog (2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftercare, BDSM, Bottom Agent Stone (Sonic the Hedgehog 2020), Car Sex, Collars, Dating, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hand Feeding, Handcuffs, Idiots in Love, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn With Plot, Proper BDSM Etiquette, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Shoe Kink, Sugar Daddy, if you squint., kind of?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:15:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,974</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26419102</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotgunsinlace/pseuds/astramaxima</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time in five decades, Dr. Robotnik boldly announces he will be going on vacation and taking his agent with him. During their week-long rendezvous, Stone takes it upon himself to finally teach Robotnik the proper ins and outs of his more secretive and boundary-pushing interests, as per the terms of their contract.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik/Agent Stone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Normal Rules Did Not Apply [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768222</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Step One: Foreplay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Decadence is not a concept Stone would equate Robotnik to. The doctor is too pragmatic, too bare bones of a person to consider luxury outside of the realm of work. He doesn’t even spoil himself despite having the ample means to, working to the point of breaking and occasionally sparing the time to step back and indulge in something as mundane as a shared meal, usually at Stone’s insistence.</p>
<p>The amount of work that has been dropped onto their laps over the past six months has been nothing short of inhumane, the brass working them both past lawful limits. And Stone isn’t an idiot. He’s sorted the projects and the unrealistic deadlines that are only there to push Robotnik over some kind of edge, and by extension spread the agent so thin it’s nothing short of a struggle to see that all the demands—from the government, military, and Robotnik himself, are met.</p>
<p>Robotnik runs on a power source dependent on approval. It never even crosses his mind that he’s allowed to say no, to demand extensions on deadlines. They can neither fire him or cut his funding when he single handedly keeps the entire country ahead of the global cybernetic race, and yet he takes the abuse like the boy who has never experienced praise in his life. </p>
<p>It boils Stone’s blood, this vampiric relationship where Robotnik is left anemic time and again.</p>
<p>Stone isn’t an idiot. He knows they can’t fire their best agent, either, when he’s the one keeping the doctor afloat amidst the cruel madness. </p>
<p>They can’t fire him for his proclivities despite clearly wanting to, and so they did the next best thing.</p>
<p>When Robotnik dropped the files and turned to Stone three weeks ago, declaring he will be taking his due time off, Stone feared something was wrong. He assumed the worst—an illness, a mental breakdown, something life-altering, but he never expected the casual shrug Robotnik offered. <i>“I believe it’s high-time for a break.”</i></p>
<p>Dante’s trek through the Inferno was easier to conceptualize when he handed in the documentation to the head office. They treated it like a national emergency, nearly scrambling every regiment on duty and flying in the Commander in Chief, as Robotnik set his girls to sleep and powered down the lab, throwing on his coat and waving at everyone with a bright “toodle-loo!”</p>
<p>For the first time in the history of the United States, Dr. Robotnik took a vacation.</p>
<p>And dragged Stone with him, but that was to be expected.</p>
<p>It has been an uneventful holiday, spent mostly in the city, in a penthouse Robotnik claims to be a safehouse hidden in plain sight. The view is a stunning one, the comforts are obscene, and Stone basks in the fact that—be it the main reason or not—Robotnik took the time to commit the crimes their higher ups have been (rightfully) accusing them of.</p>
<p>Both of his hands braced against the bathroom sink, Stone moans as Robotnik pushes the egg-shaped toy past the ring of muscle that, despite the time Stone spent prepping himself, clenches tightly around the flared end of the plug before his body fully takes it. </p>
<p>Robotnik villainously taps the stopper, pushing it deeper and making Stone double over on himself with pleasure, before pressing flush against his agent’s back. “See? Perfect fit.”</p>
<p>“Do I want to know how you estimated that?” Stone says through gritted teeth, sucking in grounding breaths as he focuses on the cool marble beneath his palms. His cock is hard, nearly dripping, but he’s aware of tonight’s game. He asked for it, after all—drafted it, wrote it down, and then had them both sign their consent.</p>
<p>After months of deliberation, Stone has given the greenlight. Robotnik is curious by nature, and after sneakily prodding about Stone’s interest, took it upon himself to get properly educated on the ins and outs of partaking in <i>scenes</i>.</p>
<p>That wedge of adoration lodged itself deeper in Stone’s chest when he learned Robotnik spared actual time researching this for him. Hurried massages were one thing, but flipping the script of their established practices just to indulge Stone? He never thought Robotnik had it in him.</p>
<p>Granted, since escaping the work environment for a couple of days, Stone wanted nothing more than to cater to Robotnik in ways they could both enjoy. The hot tub, for example. Or grinding on the couch. Or making out in front of the fireplace with Stone’s hands groping away.</p>
<p>All of which have been done. Still, Stone argues it’s Robotnik’s vacation. The doctor counter argues that it’s <i>their</i> vacation. That man never loses an argument.</p>
<p>The rest of the evening leading up to the main course passes like hot water through the cracks of Stone’s fingers. There are brief periods in which Robotnik wants to ask something but doesn’t, as per the established guidelines, and Stone comes close to assuring him he’s more than welcome to do so before deciding that Robotnik is an adult, one that has discussed tonight’s plans in great details and agreed to them. If it all gets too much, Stone trusts him to speak up.</p>
<p>They clean up together, washing each other with great care not to let their hands wander off to stiff places. Not that it matters. He gets to watch Robotnik lean back against the tile wall of the shower and jerk off to the sight of Stone rinsing lavender-scented suds off his body. Meanwhile, all Stone is allowed is a serious case of blue balls.</p>
<p>In the bedroom, Robotnik dresses him with flighty hands. Stone takes over only to tie his bow tie and then the doctor’s, before taking his sleeve and properly adjusting the cuff links. That he looks handsome goes without saying, despite the over-the-top suit Robotnik got himself tailored by a professional who caters to questionable clients. Stone’s suit as well, and while it’s a cut he would never personally go for—too slim-fitting, sharp at the shoulders, and <i>white</i>—it’s all part of this overly-elaborate night they have outlined with utmost care.</p>
<p>Funny, really, how the intention is to relinquish his iron sense of control over to the doctor, to make himself vulnerable, exposed. Instead, all Stone has gotten is attention beyond his wildest dreams, extravagant gifts both purchased and created. It’s almost a role-reversal, pushing them both out of their comfort zones. For Stone it’s about a kink, fulfilling a fantasy. Jury’s still out on Robotnik’s gain.</p>
<p>“Check-in,” Stone says as they pull up to the valet.</p>
<p>Robotnik doesn’t answer until after Stone has handed over the keys to his Rover to a severe looking woman at the entrance of the hotel. “Ask again and I’m calling it off.”</p>
<p>They make their way to the restaurant on the second floor where all Stone has to do is flash Robotnik’s digital ID to be led to their reserved table. Stone hasn’t asked how much the night will cost Robotnik, although he’s partly convinced this will all go on the government’s tab. </p>
<p>He chose one of the more private seating arrangements, a table tucked away in an alcove towards the back of the floor, away from the bustling entryway. The section is partway cut off by a wall trellis, shielding them from prying eyes. Behind them is a makeshift waterfall and a crackling fireplace.</p>
<p>It’s cozy, it’s <i>romantic</i>, and Stone wonders if Robotnik even realized what he got them into when he decided on dinner reservations at a Michelin awarded 3-star restaurant in the heart of the city. They’re definitely dressed for the occasion, with Robotnik’s suit accented by the smart coat taken at the door by the concierge, making him look the part of a debonair genius capable of flattening an entire country on a whim.</p>
<p>It’s painfully attractive, and Stone wonders if taking ibuprofen for neglected boners is nothing but a myth.</p>
<p>“This place is stupidly snob-tastic,” Robotnik says, once the waiter has filled their glasses with water and left them their menus. “But I can see the appeal.”</p>
<p>“You chose it,” Stone reminds him before taking a sip, pinky up. “I don’t think I’ve ever set foot in anything fancier than a Cheesecake Factory.”</p>
<p>“Their spaghetti is edible.”</p>
<p>“Only ever had the cheesecake. I think it was caramel coffee flavored. Didn’t like the crust.” Stone peruses the menu, having to fall back on his intro level French to decipher what’s what. He decides on duck, purely to rack up the bill. “Do you like cheesecake?” Stone asks, both perplexed and comforted by the fact that he doesn’t know everything there is to know about Robotnik.</p>
<p>The doctor drops the menu on the table and spins it, causing a corner to nudge his glass and almost spill. He does it again. “A wet dog tastes more appealing than cream cheese.”</p>
<p>“You can’t really taste the cream cheese if it’s well made.” Stone flips to the end of his own menu and spots a humble selection of cheesecakes in the dessert section. “I’ll order one so you can get a taste.”</p>
<p>Robotnik hums approvingly.</p>
<p>Their wine served and order taken, they fall into easy conversation that is mostly one-sided, Robotnik forgetting himself and speaking loudly in the otherwise quiet restaurant. Stone doesn’t point it out. He sits back in his chair and crosses his legs, happily listening to his doctor ramble away about foreign policies that aren’t directly connected to his job as a government scientist. At one point Robotnik goes off on a tangent on the topic of space travel, a dreamy, far-off look in his eye as he relates onto Stone his childhood desires still unfulfilled.</p>
<p>It’s endearing and Stone listens raptly, even when a basket of bread is brought to their table, left there by a vaguely uncomfortable looking waiter. His chest feels heavy and warm, sitting here across Robotnik, listening without the oppressive sense of deadlines looming dangerously over their heads.</p>
<p>He is cognizant of at least three separate agents keeping tabs on them in the restaurant, but Stone cannot be bothered to care. </p>
<p>As a heady act of rebellion, he toes off a shoe to lightly rub his socked foot along the side of Robotnik’s calf. He’s partially certain no one will notice unless actively looking for this kind of thing, so there is no real urgency to be careful. And if they do get caught, they will both take the ban with grace and a good laugh.</p>
<p>Robotnik stops mid word, eyes narrowing. “Have you no decency, Stone?”</p>
<p>“We’ve established I don’t,” he answers, voice playfully pitched low in a tone he knows Robotnik likes. “In fact, if you sit next to me…”</p>
<p>“This is what happens when you don’t take care of business before heading out,” Robotnik says with no real heat, just a casual observation. “You’re no better than a hormonal teenager that got into his old man’s skin mags.”</p>
<p>Stone laughs, taking a sip from his wine. He spares a grateful thought to his high alcohol tolerance, because a drunk Stone is a Stone Robotnik would likely not be able to handle, especially when horny. “Eighty percent of our trysts have been initiated by you.”</p>
<p>“Only because you edge yourself like a glutton for punishment.” Robotnik takes a bread roll from the basket and rips off a piece, dipping it in the balsamic vinegar and olive oil mix before popping it in his mouth with an appreciative hum. “Do you always get like this?”</p>
<p>Stone puts down his glass. “Like what?”</p>
<p>Robotnik idly waves a hand across the table. “Overeager.”</p>
<p>Drumming his fingers over his knee, Stone debates on how to answer. “If the scene calls for it.”</p>
<p>“So, it’s an act.”</p>
<p>“Not exactly.” He glances around him. They are secluded enough no to be overheard so long as he keeps his voice down, and he has a clear line of sight for when their waiter returns. Stone leans over the table, hands clasped. “Sometimes, scenes help people be a bit more honest with themselves.”</p>
<p>“Therapy. <i>Who needs it?</i>”</p>
<p>“That’s not… Look. You <i>know</i> that’s not what I mean.” Stone twiddles his thumbs, staring down at them. “Being a control freak doesn’t have to come with a boat-load of trauma. Some people just… <i>are</i>, and scening can help give them a break from that reality.”</p>
<p>Robotnik shifts in his seat, his hand on the table fidgeting with a soup spoon. “It’s more than just sexual gratification.”</p>
<p>“Sometimes, yeah.”</p>
<p>“One of the clauses in the contract states the scene shouldn’t be discussed during immersion. I expected you to better uphold your own rules, Stone. All about discipline and consistency.”</p>
<p>“I figured we could be more lenient since it’s your first try, for both our sakes. Maybe next time we can be stricter about it.”</p>
<p>Their main dish arrives, and Stone is grateful for the small amount of food gourmet restaurants usually serve, because he doesn’t think he would otherwise be able to finish the plate in front of him while saving room for dessert. His palate isn’t refined enough to offer feedback beyond ‘it tastes good’, because it does, but it honestly just tastes like slightly tougher chicken. Robotnik’s plate just looks like a posh version of mac ‘n’ cheese with a side of roasted vegetables.</p>
<p>“Are you excited?” Robotnik says around a mouthful of bready pasta, his eyes trained on his glass of wine as his shoulders shift under absent scrutiny.</p>
<p>“The food’s pretty good.”</p>
<p>Robotnik nods. “And everything else?”</p>
<p>Stone can’t help the smile that is slowly tugged from deep inside his body. “I’m really enjoying myself,” he says softly, catching Robotnik’s eyes briefly before they flick away from him. “You’re doing a very good job, Doctor.”</p>
<p>Robotnik clears his throat as he reaches over, piercing a fig from Stone’s plate and bringing it to his mouth. “Of course, I am. It’s me. Now, eat your food.”</p>
<p>There’s a brief pause where Stone’s fork rests on the edge of his plate. “Was that a suggestion, or…?”</p>
<p>“A sugges—” Robotnik stops, staring directly at Stone as he successfully pieces together the meaning behind the taunt. A rarity. For someone as sarcastic and sardonic as Robotnik, the concept of innuendos and such often slip past him. He clears his throat and takes a drink of his water. “That’s an order.”</p>
<p>Stone picks up his knife and cuts into the fatty meat, bringing a small piece to his mouth and resting it against his bottom lip. “Yes, sir,” he says, taking it between his teeth. He chews and swallows, drags his tongue over his lips to chase stray juices.</p>
<p>He knows the display is indecent, but it’s worth seeing a hint of color bloom on Robotnik’s cheeks.</p>
<p>Woefully, the stunt backfires.</p>
<p>A sudden jolt lights Stone up from the inside, sending his fork clattering loudly against the porcelain plate as he takes a split second to catch his breath. He stares at Robotnik accusingly, having had no idea that the plug nestled inside of him could be controlled remotely.</p>
<p>“No need to thank me,” Robotnik says.</p>
<p>Stone barely has the brain power to speak as he finishes his dinner and downs his wine with less finesse than he started out with. Robotnik orders dessert for the two of them: white chocolate raspberry truffle cheesecake, and chocolate mousse in a shot glass. Stone has half a mind to thank the waiter with a tight smile in order to make up for the doctor’s atrocious lack of manners.</p>
<p>While they wait, he excuses himself.</p>
<p>He’s as out of sorts as he is giddy, an inebriating mixture Stone has been longing for for a very long time. This is exactly what he wanted when he wrote their contract days ago, and he knew Robotnik would not disappoint, overachiever that he is.</p>
<p>Fixing his suit jacket and hoping to God nobody notes his raging hard-on, Stone slips into the restroom to relieve himself. He chooses a stall, not trusting Robotnik nor his own body to control itself were the doctor to press another button. Traitorous fingers squeeze a little too hard as his mind wanders towards the idea of rubbing one off before heading back but decides against it. No need to crudely see to his business alone, in a public bathroom, when he has a devilishly handsome, warm blooded man waiting for him back at their table.</p>
<p>Stepping out to wash his hands, Stone can at least blame his warm face on the wine.</p>
<p>“Correct me if I’m wrong, but is that a Zegna?”</p>
<p>Stone looks up from the sink to an older gentleman standing next to him with an easy smile and hands in his pockets. “Come again?”</p>
<p>“Your suit. I recognize a designer cut when I see one,” the man says, his gray beard lending him a gravity. “A man of taste, I see.”</p>
<p>Stone shakes his hands before moving over to the blow-dryer, the automatic tap shutting off once he leaves the sinks. “No,” he offers, “it’s not.”</p>
<p>“Ah, guess I can’t be right all the time, Mister…”</p>
<p>“Sorry, but I’m not interested,” Stone says with a deadpan.</p>
<p>“What? Oh, no, no! Don’t get me wrong here, man! Just a firm believer of complementing those who deserve it and you, young man, are quite the looker.”</p>
<p>The hair at the back of Stone’s neck stands on end as he takes a moment to look himself over in the mirror, making sure there isn’t a fiber out of place despite the sleazy looks the stranger is giving him. Dealing with this type of attitude is significantly easier on base, when he can easily kick a person’s ass with minimal repercussions, but that won’t fly when faced with a stranger in a high-end restaurant. Doesn’t help that the guy is around Robotnik’s age, maybe a couple years older, but significantly more built than the doctor.</p>
<p>“You have a good day,” Stone offers with a pitying smile, rolling his eyes once he’s out in the open again.</p>
<p>The oppressiveness lifts at an agonizingly slow pace as he glances over the area around him, the nameless, faceless agents still scattered about providing him a sense of relief.</p>
<p>He’s being paranoid. The man had given no indication that he meant harm; no sign of covert motives other than the average come-on Stone is no stranger to. The anxiety is likely a byproduct of removing himself from his partner during a scene that, despite the casualness of it, has dug out a hole in his psyche. Here, there is no <i>Agent</i> attached to his name. Rather than a deadly persona, he’s a painfully average man locked in a dangerous headspace in an equally dangerous environment. No weapon. Defenseless. Only his wits and his snark. A well-groomed mouse in a fancy suit, chasing his own tail in a lion’s den.</p>
<p>“Forty five seconds longer than expected,” Robotnik says once Stone retakes his seat. “You better have behaved.”</p>
<p>Stone takes a good swig of his water and spends a moment bringing himself back, anchoring, feeling the tension melt out of his shoulders as he’s reminded that the only eyes that matter are on him, taking him in with salacious intent. </p>
<p>Another moment before he sits easy, leaning back in his chair and knees spread under the table. Stone sighs dreamily despite the brief moment of panic, knowing that nobody can make him as hot as Robotnik does, and that no one but the doctor’s hands will be on him once their outing has come to an end.</p>
<p>The normally cinched brow tightens all the more in an unspoken question, but Stone shakes his head, wordlessly communicating that he is just fine. </p>
<p>It isn’t long until dessert is placed before them, and this they hardly savor.</p>
<p>The anticipation of what’s to come has them both itching to leave, but Robotnik keeps them from doing so too soon. He indulges in his mousse with lewd little hums and licks of the spoon, treating the utensil like a sucker.</p>
<p>The last spoonful is held out to Stone, and without verifying the absence of prying eyes, he leans forward and takes it into his mouth.</p>
<p>“You have no shame, Stone. Anybody could see.”</p>
<p>Stone pulls off the spoon with a smile. The mousse is probably the creamiest that has ever graced his mouth. “Not my fault they’re not minding their own business.”</p>
<p>Uncaring of the faux pas, they request the cheesecake to-go. The waiter seems more than happy to oblige, if only to get them to leave the restaurant all the sooner. To think that the doctor has been on his best behavior.</p>
<p>Robotnik covers the bill with a swipe of his optimized wrist device, now in the form of a sleek little square watch, along with a hefty tip while he awaits his coat. They then linger in the lobby for the valet to bring Stone’s car around.</p>
<p>“Maybe next time we can go somewhere a little less ritzy,” Stone says, holding the clear take-out container.</p>
<p>Robotnik shrugs. “Decadence is a good look on you,” he says overdramatically, resting a hand low on Stone’s back, much to his delight. It’s a surprisingly possessive touch, one everyone around them can see, and Stone doesn’t waste a moment leaning into it. He tucks himself against the doctor’s side, their height difference making it easier for both of them, and Stone can’t help the smug tug of his lips as he physically broadcasts who his date is. His partner. <i>His man</i>. Not that anybody here knows who Robotnik is, for the exception of the few familiar faces keeping tabs on them which Stone hopes report back to Walters.</p>
<p>To Stone’s alarm, Robotnik takes the keys. </p>
<p>“When’s the last time you drove anything other than your prototypes?” He may not care much for material things, but his car is the exception. Purchased with his hard-earned money and optimized by the genius himself—with a couple dozen turrets, great gas mileage, and back massaging seats—Stone is hesitant to let anyone other than him take the wheel.</p>
<p>“Relax, will ya?” Robotnik shoos off the valet and opens the door to the passengers’ side, bowing with an arm over his chest. “Agent Stone.”</p>
<p>With an endeared shake of the head, Stone gets in. “Such a gentleman.”</p>
<p>Robotnik is about to shut the door when he momentarily steps between it and Stone with an abrupt motion, pushing into his space with a lascivious smile. “Not for very long,” the doctor says against his ear, pressing a kiss to his temple before receding and shutting the door.</p>
<p>As Stone watches him make his way around the front of the car, waving at heaven knows who with the fakest of smiles, he is sure he won’t make it another hour.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Step Two: Consummation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stone is, by no means, an easy man. He regards sex like the average person working an ungodly number of hours a week: merely an afterthought. The frequency with which he now engages in the act may have changed due to the unorthodox arrangement of dating the man who technically pays his bills, but Stone still isn’t easy.</p><p>He swears he’s not.</p><p>Maybe Robotnik gets under his skin in more ways than one, turning him on with the rare bedroom eyes that should look ridiculous on the doctor’s face on any given day but doesn’t. His long, dexterous fingers make Stone think about depths still unexplored…and, as per his monkey brain’s brilliant input, how great they feel wrapped around his cock.</p><p>He’s not easy. Having sex constantly on the mind only suggests he’s well and truly enamored with the man he now gets to call his partner, and that’s <i>romantic</i>. Wanting and longing and lusting after his significant other in every possible way is peak romance, in his opinion, and in no way defines Stone’s level of difficulty.</p><p>So, what if he’s desperately humping Robotnik’s hand in his car, the butt plug’s slow vibrations tormenting him as his hands clutch the headrest. It doesn’t matter that they’re both fully dressed, sitting in the building’s underground parking lot, heels digging into the car mat for leverage to better rut against a palm that is just there, doing absolutely nothing other than worsening the situation.</p><p>“If you want it, you’re going to have to work for it,” Robotnik says; the engine is still running to keep the interior warm. “How I see it, if you don’t orgasm before we start tonight’s extracurricular activities, odds are you’ll finish before <i>I tell you to</i> and that’s no bueno. I could slap a ring on you, but it <i>has</i> been a couple of hours and it just—won’t. Do. For your dick to fall off.” The bastard mock-yawns.</p><p>“I can take it,” Stone says, unburying his iron-strength and sitting still, slowly exhaling after that wanton display of lewd abandon. He’s better than that. He can take it. “I like denying myself.”</p><p>Robotnik hums. “I <i>do</i> like how candid you get when that testosterone hits.”</p><p>“We can…” Stone pauses to swallow, his throat dry, “we can take it up to the penthouse, now.”</p><p>Leaning over the central console, Robotnik rests the hand not fondling Stone on his shoulder, the back of a finger coming up to gently trace the sharp line of his beard. “Cute. Plan on humping my leg all the way up?” He pauses with a thoughtful tilt of the head. “I wouldn’t object.”</p><p>The vibrations intensify as Robotnik kisses him, messy and without any real technique, but all Stone can do is feverishly return it, squirming under the hand lightly patting at his bulge, providing enough friction for him to climax if he just lets himself go.</p><p>“Do that again,” Robotnik snaps, eyes narrowed.</p><p>Confused, Stone shakes his head. “I didn’t do anything.”</p><p>“That <i>sound</i> just now.”</p><p>Unaware he had made any, Stone feels his face grow hot with embarrassment, and it is one hell of a heady dose of extra horny. “Doctor, I…” the sentence dies out, its meaning forgotten when wicked fingers abandon his groin to rub circles around a nipple, pinching it before returning to its previous spot. “Oh, fuck.”</p><p>“What’s that? Can’t get enough of my fingers? This little piggy danced up the ginormous mountain…”</p><p>Stone bites his bottom lip with a happy hum, always thrilled when Robotnik taps into a playful streak during moments like these. </p><p>A finger caresses him, digging against the zipper of his unnecessarily expensive designer pants.</p><p>“Unfortunately, this little piggy is getting very impatient so this entire palm,” Robotnik cups Stone and squeezes, grinning toothily when the agent’s knee jerks from surprise with a moan that reverberates around their enclosed space, “gets to make my cute little boy cum.”</p><p>And cum he does.</p><p>Stone gasps, slapping a hand over Robotnik’s own and frantically grinding into it as he rides out the waves of an orgasm that had been building for days. He barely registers the absence of vibration as he keens, sprawled in the passengers’ side of his Rover, shivering as Robotnik murmurs something that may be Stone’s heightened vital signs against his ear.</p><p>“Cute little boy? Where did <i>that</i> come from?” Stone asks once he’s caught his breath, lazily swapping kisses with a giddy smile. “I kinda like it.”</p><p>Robotnik shrugs. “I’ve been meaning to test the effect of pet names. No better time than the present, with you at my mercy.”</p><p>“You better not get pissed whenever I call you something sappy.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t dare.”</p><p>“Oh, I would, and I will.” Stone laughs, sighing when he finally deems his legs stable enough to move. “Now can we head in?”</p><p>“Eager, much?”</p><p>His hand coming to rest on Robotnik’s knee, he slowly slides it up along the inside of his thigh. “Always am.”</p><p>“Don’t forget the cheesecake.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>___________________________________</p>
</div>The ride up the elevator seems to last a short eternity, but Stone has no qualm with resting against Robotnik’s chest, leisurely making out with him as the good doctor massages his ass with plenty of nefarious intent, nudging the plug every so often and making Stone sigh with transcendental pleasure. It feels good, fully surrendering to Robotnik, if only for a night. He spares Stone the same amount of careful attention he does his robots, and it makes his heart pump faster, knowing he’s just as loved.<p>One final kiss to the column of his neck and Robotnik pulls away, the doors seconds away from dinging open. Once they do, the game will change only slightly, and Stone will be expected to keep his hands to himself as per their established contract.</p><p>“Can I shower before kicking the night off?” Stone asks. “Since you like us to be as clean as possible.”</p><p>Robotnik considers him for a moment. “Not this time. I want you to head straight for my bedroom and wait for me there. I’ll be the one taking you out of that suit.”</p><p>Stone can’t help a shiver at the stern order spoken so softly between them. “If it gets too much for you…”</p><p>“I’ll say something, blah blah blah. Why is this door not opening?”</p><p>As if on cue, they’re welcomed into the penthouse whose lights hum on the moment they step onto the plush carpet, dim enough to allow them sight but not enough momentarily blind. They remove their shoes and Robotnik takes the cheesecakes, shooing Stone in the direction of the master bedroom before vanishing into the general direction of the kitchen.</p><p>Stone’s nerves have been alive and aware since their evening began, thrumming excitedly and making him act far more coquettish than he would otherwise deem acceptable, but he trusts Robotnik enough to indulge in his more sensual tastes. Transactional sex serves to get the job done and the head clear, but catering to personal desires is a whole other beast Stone adores to partake in.</p><p>Robotnik’s bedroom is easily twice the size of his own, just as minimalist, if not for the tastefully small assortment of Japanese artwork on the walls. There is a small desk with two books and a lamp on it, but no chair. A walk-in closet filled with a surprising variety of clothing Stone never sees him wear. An empty wall-mount tells him its likely a spot for a holographic screen—more for entertainment than work because, Stone realizes, Robotnik doesn’t bring work into the sanctum of his bedroom.</p><p>For being a safe house, the spaces feel far more lived-in than his actual place on base. Stone figures it makes sense, considering the absence of government surveillance within a good twenty-foot radius of the building. The lack of outsourced security poses mild amounts of increased danger but, rationally speaking, not even Stone knew of its existence until Robotnik boldly announced his vacation and dragged him here.</p><p>He wonders what other hidden rooms are about, given he had wrongly assumed the bedroom they have been sharing was the master. The property isn’t obscenely large, but its winding paths cut through with delicate looking glass and coves Stone is yet to stumble upon do speak to sprawling loneliness that is intentionally difficult to navigate. </p><p>Denied a shower, Stone brushes his teeth and washes his face in the en suite bathroom while he waits. </p><p>He considers turning down the bedsheets of the large, four poster bed, with its drapes rolled up and pinned to stainless steel beams. Stone assumes they’re let down whenever the doctor wants a good sleep rather than his usually preferred micro-naps. Perhaps it grants Robotnik a cozy sort of privacy, as Stone had never taken him for someone to sleep on such a spacious surface.</p><p>It’s thrilling, the idea that he does not yet know everything there is to know about the doctor. Tiny little details that usually fade into the obscurity of the unregistered actions of everyday life. Being able to experience him outside of the work environment—even a lax one—reveals to Stone an attached glossary of little quirks, even this far along into their relationship.</p><p>He hears the soft padding of shoes approach the bedroom door.</p><p>Robotnik enters carrying a sleek box, about twice the size of his palm, a finger’s length in height. He holds it up for Stone to see before putting it down on the desk. “Face the bed.”</p><p>Stone does as he’s told with a hot knot low in his gut.</p><p>“I trust you’ll behave tonight.”</p><p>“Yes, sir,” he says as Robotnik comes to stand in front of him to undo the top buttons of Stone’s shirt. His right hand rests gently over the exposed triangle of skin, thumb caressing clavicle before trailing down to linger over Stone’s stomach.</p><p>“Did you enjoy dinner?”</p><p>“Yes, sir.” Stone wets his lips. “Is ‘sir’ okay?”</p><p>“Is it doing anything for you?”</p><p>Stone thinks about it and shrugs, before remembering himself. “It doesn’t feel much different from the usual. Maybe that’s a good thing? For starters, at least.”</p><p>“No need to hold back on my behalf, Agent.”</p><p>The <i>agent</i> gets a smile out of Stone, mostly due to the inflection in Robotnik’s voice that says he’s also looking for something to address him since pet names haven’t really come up before today. The go-to titles for most BDSM scenes are too tasteless in both their opinions, although there is a mild interest in a very specific one that was accidentally stumbled upon several months ago, when Robotnik triumphantly punched the air at a project well-funded with a boisterous ‘who’s your daddy’ that knocked the wind right out Stone’s lungs. It’s never officially been brought up, and Stone marvels at how dense Robotnik is when the immediate follow-up to his outburst was an enthusiastic blow job courtesy of Stone in the Major General’s office at the Pentagon and has yet to connect the dots.</p><p>The memory fizzles out when something stiff is wrapped around his neck without warning. </p><p>Thrown off his axis, Stone blinks blankly at the sound of a buckle being fastened behind his head, followed by the slip of a finger between his neck and the collar to test the tightness.</p><p>Stone’s mind reels, mouth cottony-dry.</p><p>He has bottomed a handful of times for both men and women, has taken on the role of the submissive twice before, but he has never been <i>collared</i>. There is a sea of connotations that comes with the gesture, none of which he is overly fond of considering he doesn’t like toying at being someone’s property. He doesn’t like being kept, or claimed, or owned.</p><p>And that is all a huge fucking lie.</p><p>It sits heavy in his chest because never has the concept rang truer than it does now, at Robotnik’s mercy. Robotnik unintentionally claimed ownership of Stone’s loyalty and adoration the moment they laid eyes on each other and Stone knew, right off the bat, that this is the man he would gladly take a bullet for. Stone accepts the collar because he understands that the act is a mutual one. While his comes off the moment they leave the refuge of the penthouse, the one beneath Robotnik’s skin that is wrapped painfully tight around that heart of his will never come off. Stone holds the key and he keeps it under his tongue, safely tucked away for no one to see.</p><p>They belong to each other, and he recognizes Robotnik’s need to visualize the bond. <i>Wait until he finds out about wedding rings,</i> he ponders.</p><p>“Hands behind your back,” Robotnik says softly, as if second-guessing himself once Stone’s posture goes rigid. He doesn’t voice his hesitance, and neither does he try to cushion the command at an attempt to abide by Stone’s signed-upon wishes.</p><p>Standing unflinching courtesy of the collar snug around his neck, Stone brings his hands to rest low at his back, where they are bound together by thick cuffs of equally stiff material. Stone’s cock throbs at the sound of metal on metal, something clipping to the back of his collar and extending to the cuffs to limit his mobility. Like this, he is well and truly defenseless, completely at Robotnik’s will and mercy—<i>at the mercy of any danger that might burst through that door and try to cause them harm</i>—but a kiss to his neck, where skin meets leather, renders him thoughtless.</p><p>Stone leans back, trusting Robotnik to be there to catch him, and he is, he does. The doctor holds Stone to his chest, softly rubbing along strained biceps to ease him into comfort. “Ready?”</p><p>“Are you gonna take care of me?” The question slips from Stone unbidden, freezing him up before jerking away with a mild sense of horror and disgust. A cold thorn wedges itself under his rib and he wants out. He wants the weight of a weapon on his person, the freedom to subdue with his hands. “Fuck, I—” Unsure of what he even means to say, he shuts his mouth and swallows hard.</p><p>Robotnik considers him with intense curiosity, a look that says he’s <i>studying</i> Stone and, for the first time ever, Stone resents it. He cannot afford to be broken apart and be peeked into, that’s <i>his</i> job, not Robotnik’s. With his insides revealed he’s as good as useless, every weak point revealed and ripe for exploitation.</p><p>The familiar beeping of tech brings Stone back enough for him to catch sight of Robotnik swiping and tapping at his data pad before setting it aside. “Security parameters have been reinforced following a full-sweep of the safe house,” he says, closing the bedroom door behind him before walking around Stone to sit at the foot of the bed. “It’s just the two of us, and nobody is getting in.”</p><p>Stone nods his head, that rock-like ball in his gut sinking lower but still present, still reminding him that he isn’t doing his job. He has forfeited his control; therefore, he deserves whatever nonexistent attack comes knocking.</p><p>It isn’t until he meets Robotnik’s eyes head-on that he realizes he’s breathing like he’s run a marathon. He follows the doctor’s silent cues, grounding himself as he watches and mimics the rhythmic rise and fall of Robotnik’s chest. The eerie silence doesn’t help Stone in the slightest, but he gets the intention behind it: Robotnik is honoring the guidelines <i>Stone</i> set. Rather than asking if Stone is alright to continue, he’s allowing him the space to speak up if he needs to, thus granting him at least one anchor of control. A mild oversight on Stone’s behalf, not having gone over how the dominant party is allowed to request updates from their submissive.</p><p>Stone trusted Robotnik to be honest, but he didn’t think about establishing guidelines that would force him to be so as well.</p><p>Mostly, he’s busy hating the fact he’s already entered the dreaded sub drop smack at the beginning of a scene, freak that he is.</p><p>“You look like you’re about to fall over,” Robotnik says, forceful enough to snap something in Stone’s brain into place. “Get on your knees.” Stone goes willingly, the proximity to the ground staving off the strictly psychological vertigo. “Do you want me to ask, Agent?”</p><p>Against his better judgment, Stone shakes his head. “I’m fine.”</p><p>“Physical restraints are capable of changing the flow of oxygen necessary to regulate—”</p><p>“I said I’m fine,” Stone says with a soft, mirthless laugh. “Just need some time to adjust.”</p><p>“In which case.” Robotnik pats his thigh.</p><p>Eyebrow raised but without verbal questioning, Stone shuffles forward on his knees, deflating against Robotnik’s leg the moment those long fingers card through his hair. He nearly melts at the sensation of nails lightly scratching at his scalp, his head resting on Robotnik’s thigh in the silence of the room.</p><p>They both linger, drinking in the comfort of shared existence.</p><p>“Sorry for being a shitty sub,” Stone says after a moment, moving his head to better nuzzle Robotnik’s thigh. “May have bitten off more than I can chew.”</p><p>“I assumed this was part of the experience.”</p><p>“Sometimes.”</p><p>Robotnik grabs a fistful of Stone’s hair and uses it to angle his head in order to face him. “What am I failing to grasp here?” he says, eyes flitty. “Three days ago, you said there was no such thing as a bad sub, only <i>bad doms with daddy issues</i>.”</p><p>“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Stone says, closing his eyes with mild frustration when the action of reaching out to comfort Robotnik is denied to him by the cuffs. “There’s a difference between a bad dom and a new one. You’re learning.”</p><p>“Answer the question.”</p><p>“The point of a scene is to coax a submissive into a completely different headspace than the one they’re used to, and sometimes…” he sniffs, trying to put it properly into words, “a firm hand is needed. Not all partners are like that, but some subs are more stubborn than others.”</p><p>“Especially the switches who are used to being dominant.”</p><p>Stone nods his head. Trust Robotnik to quickly catch on when he wants to. “Scene switches are pretty rare, in case you’re wondering. It’s not the same as rolling to see who’s going to top and who’s going to bottom during sex.”</p><p>Hand still in his hair, Robotnik pulls him closer. “Do we switch back to our usual dynamic?”</p><p>“I trust you,” Stone says, digging up the earnestness from the pits of his gut and meaning it. “You know how you push me around in the lab? That. But mean it.”</p><p>It’s Robotnik’s turn to look incredulous. “I’m nowhere near as stressed for that to come off as natural.”</p><p>Stone sags against the hold with a huff. “Then hold me down and fuck me.”</p><p>“Oh ho, what’s this? I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting this pissy version of you,” Robotnik coos, manhandling Stone until he’s kneeling in front of him instead of against him. “Since you’re so unsatisfied with all my hard work, what don’t I just leave you kneeling there?”</p><p>Stone loosens his jaw as he rests his weight on his haunches, back perfectly straight. Recalibrating. “You could—”</p><p>“That was a rhetorical question,” Robotnik interrupts, nudging Stone’s chin with the tip of his pristine shoe. “Here’s a choice for you: get yourself off on my shoe, or get it clean enough for me to reward you with pinning you down. And by clean, I mean a good ol’ spit shine.”</p><p>A breath rattles in Stone’s chest, those oxygen molecules sparking a fresh new wave of arousal as he weighs his options. Instant gratification, or a little denial that will get him properly topped out of his mind. The choice is an easy one considering he’s already thrown shame to the wind the moment he came dry humping Robotnik’s hand.</p><p>Making himself comfortable on his knees, Stone bows his head enough to lick a strip up the polished surface of Robotnik’s shoe. They are not the ones he wore for their date, as these are clearly unused and likely purchased for this very occasion. He does it again, and again, involuntarily drooling as the collar’s edges dig into the soft flesh of his neck, arms tired where he has to hold them up or else risk cutting off his own airflow.</p><p>Stone’s hips move in a miniscule motion before a sudden onslaught of vibrations punches a gasp out of him, having forgotten the presence of the toy still inside. The pulses are dull, merely a reminder as Stone leaves not a single spot untouched. He catalogs the act for later, wondering if he could ever get Robotnik to do the same for him.</p><p>“Consider this an initiation, Agent. You’re no longer a government bootlicker.” Robotnik smiles, his mustache curling with wicked delight. “<i>You’re mine.</i>”</p><p>“Yes, sir,” he responds softly, looking up at Robotnik with unfocused eyes.</p><p>“Stand up.”</p><p>It takes a colossal effort to do so without falling over, knees like jelly as he’s beckoned forward. Stone stands still as he watches Robotnik undo his belt buckle, button, and fly, tugging down the white pants just enough for Stone to be free of the tight confines. He watches, rapt, as his half-hard cock bobs inches away from the doctor’s face, his hot breath tickling slightly as Robotnik reaches for something in his jacket pocket.</p><p>He was expecting the cock ring, waiting for the delicious pressure as it is fasted around the root and the top of his sac. It borders on painful but not quite; good enough to get him fully hard in moments, desperate for Robotnik to take him. But he won’t. Not yet. Of this much Stone is certain.</p><p>Robotnik carefully tucks him back into his boxers, brings his pants back up and zips, rebuckles his belt and haphazardly tucks the shirt back into them. He leans forward to mouth at Stone’s now sizable bulge, making his agent moan with a new type of abandon that surprises both. Pulling back, Robotnik pats it before getting to his feet. “On the bed.”</p><p>With this he lends Stone a hand, mindful of his current lack of balance. Robotnik bends him to his liking once he’s kneeling at the center of the mattress, with his legs folded under him and the side of his face against the soft sheets, ass up. It gets a playful squeeze that makes Stone laugh, but that soon changes when the plug expands inside of him, vibrations intensifying. All he does is clench his teeth.</p><p>“Be a darling and wait for me,” Robotnik says, running a hand through Stone’s hair before getting off the bed. “If you move, the restraints come off and the scene is over.”</p><p>He’s gone before Stone can complain.</p><p>The silence of the room settles over him like a heavy blanket on a sweltering day. Robotnik is offering him yet another out, likely picking up on Stone’s reluctance to call it off with him in the room. Alone, all he has to do is roll onto his side and this will all be over. He doesn’t want to, however. What Stone wants is to see this through, to be rendered helpless, mounted like an animal, taken by the man he loves if it means he can be held and cared for afterwards. He wants to not think about the visceral reaction this desire gets out of him, the disgust it elicits deep in his gut. The weakness.</p><p>His thighs begin to burn.</p><p>He’s left there so long he almost falls asleep, vaguely aware of how his mind has blanked out, focused only on the points of his neck, wrists, and thighs. His breathing comes at a cadence that is both slow and deep, drowning out even the incessant vibrations and the painful straining of his cock within the chokehold of the ring. It’s a dull sort of torture, one that forces him under a translucent shimmer of pleasured presence in the form of a thrum. Bit by bit his muscles loosen, his eyelids grow heavy—a barely-there stroke down his back has him moaning loud and drawn out, a wanton sound that has Robotnik replying in kind.</p><p>“Unquestionably remarkable,” the doctor whispers against the back of Stone’s head, where his fade has grown out into something tuggable. “Are you ready?”</p><p>Stone nods, drunk on the acceptance that he is not in control. He’s maneuvered left and right, only stirring to full wakefulness when the plug is gently removed and replaced by something more compact, something that hits just right, brushes just so against his prostate. Heat along his back and hands, mouth on the back of his neck before it is replaced by long, deft fingers that are too cold to be alive. He’s pushed down against the bed, and the snap of Robotnik’s hips against his ass has Stone muttering every prayer ever taught to him.</p><p>He pushes back for more, tightens in an attempt to spur the doctor on—the best he can do other than beg aloud to be fucked harder. Robotnik deposits more weight onto the hand holding Stone down, the other is yanking on the leather leash connecting the collar to the cuffs, pulling him two separate ways and making him laugh with delirious ecstasy.</p><p>Robotnik whines—of course he whines, unused to curbing his orgasms, always letting go whenever he wants and letting Stone deal with the aftermath—but he sees to his role perfectly. He mumbles dirty little nothings into Stone’s ear as he takes him from behind ever so slowly, careful not to push himself over, not until his agent has had his fill.</p><p>“Scoot over,” he says, helping Stone shimmy himself three inches to the left.</p><p>It’s only then that Stone gets a good look at him, beautifully nude with his own cock ring snug around the root as he settles back onto the pillows, patting his hip in invitation. Stone isn’t sure how he manages, but he moves like a man whose body has been possessed. He straightens up, still bound, and throws a leg over to straddle the doctor, effortlessly slipping down onto his fat little cock.</p><p>Robotnik gazes up at him with a look of unabashed worship, his hands on Stone’s hips to steady him while his agent rides him with unsteady legs. It takes a moment to register that the drapes attached to the bed’s frame have been lowered, shielding them from the very room and narrowing their sanctum to the immediate seventy two by eighty four inches beneath them. Enclosed, safe, no gun needed. All that matters are Robotnik’s hands on him, slow and gentle along his bare legs, rough on his stiff, swollen cock.</p><p>The ring comes off and Stone’s eyes snap open, wide, begging, but his doctor gives no quarter. “Not until you say it,” he says, holding himself back by a frazzled thread. “I appreciate how loud you’ve been for a turn, but I’m yet to get a coherent phrase out of you.”</p><p>Stone sways and is boggled by Robotnik’s own clarity. He tries to speak, but all he can muster is a groan. He slams himself down harder instead, thighs clenching as the entirety of his body trembles.</p><p>“Don’t you <i>dare</i> cum,” Robotnik says, wrapping a tight fist around Stone. “Beg me for it.”</p><p>He tries, he really does.</p><p>Stone tries to curl in on himself and fails, his restraints keeping him upright, forcing him to withstand the force and the exhaustion as he simultaneously chases and retreats from the blinding hot pleasure. Until Robotnik stops moving.</p><p>“No, no, don’t stop,” he weakly complains with a gasp, desperately moving against the bruising grip on his hips. “<i>Please.</i>”</p><p>“Please <i>what</i>, Agent?” Robotnik’s voice is a low rasp that serves as a caress along the throbbing cock in his hand. “What do you want from me?”</p><p>Stone clenches his jaw, quivering.</p><p>“<i>Stone.</i>”</p><p>“God, <i>fuck</i>, just—let me cum. <i>Let me cum</i>, Doctor. <i>Please.</i>”</p><p>Robotnik shudders with his own little moan, the façade slipping only momentarily as he reaches down to remove his own ring before taking hold of Stone’s hip again one-handed, the other jerking him off quickly and messily as he fucks into him.</p><p>“Go on and show me how good I make you feel.”</p><p>Stone’s body goes taut, back arching, head tipped as he huffs out a litany of curses and whines, all peppered with the doctor’s name as he cums all over his fist and belly. Beneath him, Robotnik sits up with a triumphant grin, holding him close as he helps Stone ride out his orgasm before he’s taken by his own, the likes of which he muffles against his agent’s slack mouth.</p><p>Trembling limbs aren’t enough to stifle the quiet laughter that drifts between them, drowned out by the glorious ocean of kisses that pulls them both under.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Some time ago (WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S BEEN TWO MONTHS) I commissioned the wonderful Kiinadi over at twitter to illustrate <a href="https://twitter.com/KiinadiArt/status/1287095375426396161">Mr. Agent Collared Stone</a>. And all I can say is damn, that man? Total hottie.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Step Three: Confession</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's a joyous day, lads.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The cuffs are the first to come off, then the jacket and shirt, and lastly is the collar, which Robotnik fumbles with due to the shakiness of his fingers and the small size of the lock. There’s a safety latch that would allow Stone to quickly get out of it, but as their bodies cool and their minds wind down, there is no hurry and no need to damage such a remarkable piece of craftsmanship.</p><p>“Did you make these yourself?”</p><p>“My tailor,” Robotnik says.</p><p>“I wasn’t aware they worked with leather.”</p><p>“Neither was I until they offered an <i>off the menu</i> listing when I placed the order for your suit. Either I’m more predictable than I think I am—which is impossible—or they know their clientele.”</p><p>“I’m sure it’s the latter,” Stone says, unable to stop himself from shivering even when he’s moved to lean against the padded headboard, pillows at his back. He shuts his eyes while Robotnik inspects his hands and wrists, taking hold of his chin and moving it from side to side. “I’m fine, Doctor.”</p><p>“Your neck is chafed.”</p><p>“That’s when you know it was good.”</p><p>Robotnik sighs through his nose, and it’s such an uncharacteristic sound that Stone forces his eyes open. He watches him roll off the bed after a brief struggle with the curtains, and then listens to the doctor’s near silent padding around the room. There’s a clink of toys being deposited onto the ensuite’s sink, then the opening and shutting of a drawer. The bedroom door clicks open and Stone momentarily tenses, only to ease back with measured breaths when Robotnik returns and unceremoniously kicks the door shut.</p><p>The curtain closest to him rolls up, and Stone eyes the repertoire of objects on the bedside table with a small smile. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”</p><p>Robotnik, now wearing a faded gray shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants, offers him a water bottle. “Comes with the territory of being good at everything,” he says, returning to his pile and presenting Stone with a stack of clothes.</p><p>Stone shakes his head, taking the soft bundle and setting it next to his hip in favor of finishing the water. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until that first drop touched his tongue. He winces when something cold presses against his neck.</p><p>“I said I’m fine,” he says, maybe a little more defensive than intended, when he realizes what it is that Robotnik is doing. “Doctor—”</p><p>“They won’t be gone by the time we’re due back,” Robotnik stiffly explains, patting a small cotton circle to the tender spots where the leather pressed too hard. Whatever he applies instantly warms, leaving the area tingling. “As fond as we are of leaving marks on the other.”</p><p>It is Stone’s turn to sigh. Robotnik is right. The bruises are too high up on his neck, and not only does he not want to walk around out of dress code, wearing a turtleneck immediately post their mutual vacation would only confirm everyone’s suspicions. They really can’t fire either of them for their proclivities, but reassignment is a very real threat he doesn’t want to risk. He had gotten reckless weeks ago, taunting their superiors, but sitting on Robotnik’s bed at that very moment has made him realize what he can genuinely lose.</p><p>Stone just sits there, in the nude, nursing his water while Robotnik tends to his oversensitive neck. The attention lights a warm glow in his gut, and he leans into the touch, eyes shut even when the doctor’s hands drift to his wrists. “You can leave those. My sleeves cover them.”</p><p>A thumb rubs light circles over soft skin, before being lifted to be kissed. “You performed… admirably.”</p><p>Stone snorts. “Don’t hurt yourself.”</p><p>“Fine, <i>don’t</i> take the compliment.” Robotnik pauses for a long moment. “No, you know what? You better accept it because I feel like giving it.”</p><p>“Try again.”</p><p>“It’s not even a compliment. It’s a factual observation.”</p><p>“That I did a good job?”</p><p>“You did a great job,” he says forcefully, thumb and forefinger now massaging Stone’s open palm. “I commend your boggling stupidity—” Robotnik stops again, “no, not like that. Despite this being a scenario of your making, Stone, one that tested your personal resolve and pushed the boundaries of your comfort zone… I can’t take this seriously if you’re not <i>looking</i> at me.”</p><p>Stone blinks his eyes open. “You don’t have to.”</p><p>“Wrong, I <i>do</i> have to.” Robotnik scoots closer to him, clearing his throat. “You trusted me. And for that I—I <i>thank</i> you.” His eyes flick away from Stone, the hint of pink on his cheeks making him look somehow younger.</p><p>“I trust you with my life,” Stone says quietly, pulling away to caress a thumb across Robotnik’s cheekbone. “I think we both did a good job tonight. Got some good practice in if there’s ever a next time.”</p><p>“I definitely prefer being the passive party.”</p><p>“Of course you do, because you’re a pillow princess,” Stone says, regretting it the moment he’s grabbed by the nose.</p><p>“That’s not very nice now, is it? I give as good as I take. When it comes to you, anyway.” Robotnik lets him go, leaning in to kiss the bridge of his nose.</p><p>“Tough guy.”</p><p>“Oh, now you’re mouthy.”</p><p>“Scene’s over. Therefore, I’m allowed to act out and there’s nothing you can do about it.”</p><p>The doctor hums without moving away, rubbing their noses together before stealing a kiss from Stone’s lips. “There’s my agent.” He shifts around with a mischievous grin, taking the empty bottle and placing it on the nightstand before settling himself between Stone’s legs, laying on top of him without preamble, chest to chest.</p><p>“You’re heavy,” Stone complains without real heat, enjoying the feeling of soft fabric against his body. It’s erotic without being sexual, and the novelty of it thrills him. “But be my guest. Use me as a body pillow.”</p><p>Robotnik nods enthusiastically, angling his head up for another kiss.</p><p>They stay like this, with their hands touching and stroking, swapping kisses that fall between the parameters of chaste and sloppily heated.</p><p>Stone anchors himself to Robotnik, to the warm presence of his weight and the careful attention that has followed since the scene ended. The attention to detail, the things Stone accidentally left out of their contract but were still present, not because the doctor has some innate knowledge of the practices, but because he took moments out of his own time to study something out of Stone’s whim leaves him speechless. </p><p>That heavy weight in his chest isn’t necessarily of the bad variety, glowing syrupy sweet as he cradles the back of Robotnik’s head in the aftermath of their latest kiss. “Maybe one day we won’t have to worry too much about what we leave on each other.”</p><p>“I doubt a change in administration will bring a wave of change to such small-minded thinking.”</p><p>“I meant more along the lines of, I don’t know, retirement, maybe. Privatization, even.”</p><p>Robotnik straightens up enough to properly look at Stone with narrowed eyes. “The expense would be too vast to kickstart any sort of venture.”</p><p>“You’ve never really thought about private contracting? Selling blueprints of your own tech to the highest bidder and then sitting back and watching the royalties roll in? It wouldn’t just have to be weapons. You could expand AI-based research, different types of satellites. Hell, get us to the closest livable planet. Build your own empire.”</p><p>The way the doctor’s eyes soften expands the aforementioned feeling inside of Stone, but this time it ties itself with thorn-ridden vines around his heart before squeezing the blood out of it. The eyes that bear into him gleam with the wonder of a child’s; a complex sort innocence so profound that it should have no place on Robotnik’s weathered face.</p><p>“Maybe in the distant future,” he says, trailing the tip of his nose along Stone’s jawline. “You’ve already tamed me into this pathetic excuse of a creature—docile, <i>declawed</i>. Who’s to say I won’t follow your alarmingly brilliant professional advice?”</p><p>“I didn’t break you, did I? That’s too many compliments over the course of five minutes.”</p><p>Robotnik sits up, straddling Stone’s thighs to reach for the small ceramic plate he’s brought in from the kitchen, the cheesecake from earlier lying on its side with a small bamboo fork stuck in it. “I am perfectly capable of praise when it is deserved.” He cuts off the tip, scooping it up and holding it to Stone’s bottom lip. “I’m just yet to meet a human who deserves it.”</p><p>“But I’m the exception, right?” Stone says, taking the bite with a happy hum at its richness.</p><p>Robotnik takes the next bite and echoes the sentiment after briefly scrutinizing the taste. “You’re the first person I’ve brought to bed in thirty years. Make of that what you will.”</p><p>“You’re saying you only want me for my good looks. I see how it is.”</p><p>“You also have an above-average physique. Adequately toned for optimal performance.”</p><p>“My good looks <i>and</i> my body.” Stone grins before taking another bite.</p><p>The fork is returned to the plate in favor of Robotnik placing his hand over Stone’s collarbone, softly caressing its way downward and then up again. It is an action simply meant to feel, and Stone shivers at how banally human it is of the doctor. “Both very pleasing to the senses.”</p><p>“I don’t think we could go another round if we wanted to,” Stone says, taking the plate from him and setting it back down on the nightstand. “You came two whole times, after all.” With a swift motion he confesses has been adapted from his CQB training, Stone hooks his leg around Robotnik’s calf and flips him onto his back, reversing their positions. “And you are very cute when you get overstimulated.”</p><p>The doctor glares up at him, affronted by both the sudden action and the unwarranted quip. “Not of all us can be in our thirties with some untapped source of endless stamina.”</p><p>“Actually, I’ll be forty in a little under two months.”</p><p>“Ah,” Robotnik says, more a thoughtful exhale than an actual word.</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“Oh, I’m just wondering why you’d waste your time on an old man like me.” The words are said nonchalantly, with the usual Robotnik style of melodrama drowning out the slightest hint of insecurity Stone briefly peeks behind the veil of his bright eyes. “Sure, I’m the most sought after bachelor out there with my brains and devilishly good looks—”</p><p>Stone shuts him up with a kiss. An agonizingly tender one that has the doctor going slack against the pillows.</p><p>“My future became intimately entangled with yours the moment I first met you,” Stone says, cradling his face. “The hows or whys don’t matter because I can’t put a finger to it. I can’t math or science an explanation out of it. But trust me, believe me when I say that I will <i>never</i> leave your side, Doctor.” Robotnik turns his face away, jaw savagely set and nose crinkled with something akin to anger, but Stone pulls him back. “I mean it.”</p><p>Robotnik scoffs, abrupt and nasty. “What’s next? You’re gonna say that—that—” he stammers, snapping his mouth shut as he glares at the ceiling.</p><p>“Does it need to be said?” Stone says, debating the answer to his own question. He could lay in the doctor’s bed and rhapsodize about all the ways he adores the man, about how for the first time in a very long time <i>Stone is in love</i>, but he fears that words that can do his feelings any sort of justice would fall on deaf ears. On the opposite side of that same coin, the odds of Robotnik ever having those words said to him are nonexistent. And every person, regardless of who they are, deserves to hear it at least once.</p><p>“Waste of breath,” Robotnik says before Stone can take the chance. “Besides, mutually expressed ideas hardly necessitate voicing. The risk of mudding the message is unnecessary.”</p><p>Stone licks his lips with a shake of the head and—oh. </p><p>
  <i>Oh.</i>
</p><p>“Doctor.” The truth tangled in Robotnik’s words hits him then, but he is given no chance to react before he is pulled down onto a warm chest by a gangly arm that wraps around him. “Doctor…”</p><p>“Take it or leave it, Stone. I said what I said.”</p><p>The silence in the small space of the bed feels different, lulling in its peacefulness and the wild giddiness Stone forces himself to subdue for the time being. They stare at each other for what feels like eons compacted within the parameters of a single agitated breath evening itself out. To love and be loved by this incomprehensible man equates to being suffocated by the ever radiant blast of a dying star—colorful and warm and sweet smelling in its burning violence. Natural but only observable at a macro scale. Heavier than a mercurial drop upon the head of a pin.</p><p>Stone’s sigh is one of rest, of a cosmonaut returning to the safety of his home base.</p><p>He moves without prompting, falling into preternatural sync as Robotnik moves with him, Stone’s body folded and comfortably tucked into the curves and slopes of the doctor’s own. An arm around his chest, Stone is brought back to fit tighter against him.</p><p>Warm. Safe. Protected.</p><p>Robotnik places a kiss against Stone’s ear before settling back down onto the pillows, spooning Stone as the curtains automatically slip back into place, the room’s lights dimming to a faint glow.</p><p>“Wake me if it’s anything important,” the doctor says, his voice already heavy with impending sleep. The <i>if you need me</i> goes unspoken, but still there for his agent to grasp.</p><p>Lacing his fingers through the ones resting against his chest, Stone shuts his eyes and allows himself to drift, as exposed as he is, naked in more ways than just physically, in his doctor’s arms.</p>
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